My palm was incredibly dry.But when the rain poured, I obligingly opened it to receive the cloud’s every teardrops. Along with it, I weep of all the disappointments I have collated.
In the cool breeze a palm tree sways. Somewhere in the distance birds sing in tempo with the ocean. You hold me tightly and I fall asleep in your arms.
the palm of his hand was aching from the exertion, from the constant effort of turning and pushing and pounding to get the lid off. Yet still, he pounded.
Palm trees can be found in tropical areas. They are very tall. The leave of the palm tree looks like human’s palm. I believe which is the origin of its name.
The palm of your hand can tell a lot about you if palm readers are to be believed. The life line can determine your whole fate, but i beg to differ really. They’re just lines. Some people have only got 3 and others have an unlimited number depending on how much work they do. Really maybe that’s what determines a person’s life.
The palm of my hand is smooth. Hands remind me of dolls because of the way the lines make them look stitched together. The palm is warmth, comfort, and sometimes, violence. But nevertheless, a safe place to me.
Her palms were sweaty as she contemplated her next move. What would it be a move to Europe or………….Wow what a decision. when where how
the answers are there……….
I suppose he wanted to hold my hand.
I jumped at the thought.
What would it be like to feel palm against palm.
Our skin against each others.
It wasn’t like our hearts were touching,
and this surely didn’t mean we were lovers.
But maybe palms could turn into something more.
I have a palm. Its got a lot of lines on it. It’s a pretty cool palm. Its part of my hand, and my hands pretty neat. I can write stuff with it. You can read my palm, if you are a fortune teller. I’ve never been to one of those. I can hold stuff in my palm. :) Yep, anything I want. I hold it in my palm.
palm. I think of the plam of your hand. The things you control. This isn’t the greatest word. I’m not feeling all that poetic. Crap. Palm. It could also be a tree found in South California. Um…time;s up.
One week til Easter. Young children squirm in their pews, knowing that today they will go shopping for their new Easter clothes. Adults try to listen to the sermon, but they too are excited for the upcoming shopping.
He held it out. Her heart jumped. Breathing was suddenly difficult. She couldn’t believe he was doing this. Should she take it? If she did, it would be more than just accepting, she would be giving too.
She took his hand and when their palms touched she knew it was the right decision.
i held you in the palm of my hand. did i let you slip away? did i have a choice at all? i couldn’t have turned the tides to make you stay…and you couldn’t have asked me to come with you. it hurts and it burns, but here we are again.
in the palm of your hands i left a paper
in wich was the way i felt about you
and you just were lying there
with no life in your eyes, because of me you were dead
The palm of your hand. Lines. Lines on the rough bark of the palm tree. I saw palm trees, once, in Vegas, and they surprised me. Thrilled me. I had not been expecting them; I knew nothing about the desert. It was 83 degrees in early April and I have never felt such a thawing in my bones. I have never touched a palm tree, though. They were protected by fences and my boyfriend’s rules. The rules: hold his hand. Don’t touch new things.
I was running from something…it seemed like I would never understand.
But I was a palm reader now. The lines on my hands will tell me what to do. I know it.
the palm of my hand has had lines since before i can remember. i always wondered why, since i’m not that old. is twenty-one old? in some countries, people have been married for six years by the time they’re twenty-one. it’s a little scary, actually, marriage. maybe some day. maybe in six years. or more.
In the palm of my hand, I read the lines. I read my future. I read my past. I read my present. I read right through you. I read right to who. Whoever you might be, well that my friend, is a mystery in the palm of my hand where I read the lines.
in the palm of my hand was a magical fairy that granted me my deepest desire. and when she granted my wish, i became her size and lived in a starry paridise with her forever.
The palm of my hand was red and I couldnt think. I was bored and I didnt have much time but I ran to the nearest gas station and told them about it. They didnt belive me so I was on my own. I purchased a Coke while I was there and some paper towels. That was about all I could do for now.
He held out his palm to her, face up. The lines of his weary hand wide and worn. “Trust me?” It was a simple request, a simple question, but words never held so much wonder.
small and slightly frail. I held the most important love of my life in my palm and I will always remember that day. The feeling, the pain, the love and the life that I have felt within my palm is amazing. Regardless of were I am my palms have a history beyond unlike anything else
My palm has been many places. It has graced the other palm of my one true love. It has been in the sands by the beach. It has held my son during his first few breaths and it has known the touch of a razor blade.
The palm of her hand touched my face, caressing it slowing. She spoke, “Darren, I’m so sorry,” and tears fell down her face. I turned away from her. I couldn’t bare to think of her standing there, looking over the wreckage of the car.
oh my god i just wanna disappearrr nowwwww i wanna go bak to where i was born, not stuck in here
i wanna visit my family
i wish i could still tlk to some people tht are ignoring my texts and i wish they didnt ahhhh fml
haha and i just got extra time cause i clicked bak wow im bored and my two friends are being weird and i rather not tlk to them, i wanna tlk to tht specific friend ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hand, future, white, small, swaying in the breeze, tropical, hurricane coming, coconut, oil, gilligan, why is that on any more? out with carly and miley! in with the professor!
the left palm is stable…representing a snapshot of my future
the right palm is changing…representing a snapshot of my present
my soul is old as told by the lines in both palms
the palm can be the window to the future
i ching.
the palms of her hands were sweating as she prepared for the task ahead of her. she no longer knew what was right or wrong. her only guidance will be her gut instinct. she chose.
Somewhere in the palm of my hand, the future is written. He closes his hand over mine, content not to know what my life, as written, might have to say about this particular moment in time.
The treasure was easily contained within the palm of her hand; that which she had searched for, she had found. It only took 3 years. The small reflective plate that she had stolen from the king’s chambers stared back at her delectably. Finally, she would be able to buy passage to the new world.
It makes me think of palm trees which remind me of some of the most amazing vacations. I think of going to New Smyrna Beach with my grandparents. I think of spending Spring Breaks with my parents in Phoenix and growing closer to them. I think of playing “Name That Tune” with my parents and laughing our way through it. And I think of some of the happiest times of my life.
The palm of my hand was sweaty. I didn’t know why, i did this all the time. It was just old news to me. Walk into the apartment, introduce myself, send the message. Was I that rusty? Was it that long of a time before a message was sent? No wonder my place in this city isn’t known.
My palm was incredibly dry.But when the rain poured, I obligingly opened it to receive the cloud’s every teardrops. Along with it, I weep of all the disappointments I have collated.
In the cool breeze a palm tree sways. Somewhere in the distance birds sing in tempo with the ocean. You hold me tightly and I fall asleep in your arms.
the palm of his hand was aching from the exertion, from the constant effort of turning and pushing and pounding to get the lid off. Yet still, he pounded.
Palm trees can be found in tropical areas. They are very tall. The leave of the palm tree looks like human’s palm. I believe which is the origin of its name.
The palm of your hand can tell a lot about you if palm readers are to be believed. The life line can determine your whole fate, but i beg to differ really. They’re just lines. Some people have only got 3 and others have an unlimited number depending on how much work they do. Really maybe that’s what determines a person’s life.
The palm of my hand is smooth. Hands remind me of dolls because of the way the lines make them look stitched together. The palm is warmth, comfort, and sometimes, violence. But nevertheless, a safe place to me.
touch. feel. hold. palm trees. sand. the world in the palm of my hand.
Her palms were sweaty as she contemplated her next move. What would it be a move to Europe or………….Wow what a decision. when where how
the answers are there……….
Palm of the hand is soo small…is that why you slipped away? Cuz I held you in my hand, and now I can’t find you…
I suppose he wanted to hold my hand.
I jumped at the thought.
What would it be like to feel palm against palm.
Our skin against each others.
It wasn’t like our hearts were touching,
and this surely didn’t mean we were lovers.
But maybe palms could turn into something more.
I have a palm. Its got a lot of lines on it. It’s a pretty cool palm. Its part of my hand, and my hands pretty neat. I can write stuff with it. You can read my palm, if you are a fortune teller. I’ve never been to one of those. I can hold stuff in my palm. :) Yep, anything I want. I hold it in my palm.
palm. I think of the plam of your hand. The things you control. This isn’t the greatest word. I’m not feeling all that poetic. Crap. Palm. It could also be a tree found in South California. Um…time;s up.
One week til Easter. Young children squirm in their pews, knowing that today they will go shopping for their new Easter clothes. Adults try to listen to the sermon, but they too are excited for the upcoming shopping.
He held it out. Her heart jumped. Breathing was suddenly difficult. She couldn’t believe he was doing this. Should she take it? If she did, it would be more than just accepting, she would be giving too.
She took his hand and when their palms touched she knew it was the right decision.
i held you in the palm of my hand. did i let you slip away? did i have a choice at all? i couldn’t have turned the tides to make you stay…and you couldn’t have asked me to come with you. it hurts and it burns, but here we are again.
in the palm of your hands i left a paper
in wich was the way i felt about you
and you just were lying there
with no life in your eyes, because of me you were dead
I had her in the palm of my hand. All I had to do was ask. But what did I do? Nothing. Story of my life.
The palm of your hand. Lines. Lines on the rough bark of the palm tree. I saw palm trees, once, in Vegas, and they surprised me. Thrilled me. I had not been expecting them; I knew nothing about the desert. It was 83 degrees in early April and I have never felt such a thawing in my bones. I have never touched a palm tree, though. They were protected by fences and my boyfriend’s rules. The rules: hold his hand. Don’t touch new things.
In the palm of my hand stood the miniature parakeet. “Hello.” Said I, wondering where this strange creature came from.
“Hello.” It responded. “I am no ordinary parakeet. I am a small parakeet. So small that I stand in the palm of your hand.”
“How extraordinary!” I exclaimed. “But how did you get so small? And how did you become so small?”
I was running from something…it seemed like I would never understand.
But I was a palm reader now. The lines on my hands will tell me what to do. I know it.
the palm of my hand has had lines since before i can remember. i always wondered why, since i’m not that old. is twenty-one old? in some countries, people have been married for six years by the time they’re twenty-one. it’s a little scary, actually, marriage. maybe some day. maybe in six years. or more.
In the palm of my hand, I read the lines. I read my future. I read my past. I read my present. I read right through you. I read right to who. Whoever you might be, well that my friend, is a mystery in the palm of my hand where I read the lines.
in the palm of my hand was a magical fairy that granted me my deepest desire. and when she granted my wish, i became her size and lived in a starry paridise with her forever.
The palm of my hand was red and I couldnt think. I was bored and I didnt have much time but I ran to the nearest gas station and told them about it. They didnt belive me so I was on my own. I purchased a Coke while I was there and some paper towels. That was about all I could do for now.
He held out his palm to her, face up. The lines of his weary hand wide and worn. “Trust me?” It was a simple request, a simple question, but words never held so much wonder.
small and slightly frail. I held the most important love of my life in my palm and I will always remember that day. The feeling, the pain, the love and the life that I have felt within my palm is amazing. Regardless of were I am my palms have a history beyond unlike anything else
My palm has been many places. It has graced the other palm of my one true love. It has been in the sands by the beach. It has held my son during his first few breaths and it has known the touch of a razor blade.
i’ve held the stars in the
pit of my heart and the world
in the palm of my hand
and still i feel ashamed
The palm of her hand touched my face, caressing it slowing. She spoke, “Darren, I’m so sorry,” and tears fell down her face. I turned away from her. I couldn’t bare to think of her standing there, looking over the wreckage of the car.
oh my god i just wanna disappearrr nowwwww i wanna go bak to where i was born, not stuck in here
i wanna visit my family
i wish i could still tlk to some people tht are ignoring my texts and i wish they didnt ahhhh fml
haha and i just got extra time cause i clicked bak wow im bored and my two friends are being weird and i rather not tlk to them, i wanna tlk to tht specific friend ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hand, future, white, small, swaying in the breeze, tropical, hurricane coming, coconut, oil, gilligan, why is that on any more? out with carly and miley! in with the professor!
the left palm is stable…representing a snapshot of my future
the right palm is changing…representing a snapshot of my present
my soul is old as told by the lines in both palms
the palm can be the window to the future
i ching.
the palms of her hands were sweating as she prepared for the task ahead of her. she no longer knew what was right or wrong. her only guidance will be her gut instinct. she chose.
I drew a line across the plain of your palm
marking boundaries
where my hand should have been
and why the shadows linger
the past, these lines
as i was lieing on the sunny florida beach i could hear and feel as the wind whiped through the palm trees. i felt the cool shade was acros my body.
Somewhere in the palm of my hand, the future is written. He closes his hand over mine, content not to know what my life, as written, might have to say about this particular moment in time.
The treasure was easily contained within the palm of her hand; that which she had searched for, she had found. It only took 3 years. The small reflective plate that she had stolen from the king’s chambers stared back at her delectably. Finally, she would be able to buy passage to the new world.
It’s too bad that Palm Inc. lost out to Windows CE. But I don’t miss it so much – I’m looking forward to my iPod Touch.
It makes me think of palm trees which remind me of some of the most amazing vacations. I think of going to New Smyrna Beach with my grandparents. I think of spending Spring Breaks with my parents in Phoenix and growing closer to them. I think of playing “Name That Tune” with my parents and laughing our way through it. And I think of some of the happiest times of my life.
The palm of my hand was sweaty. I didn’t know why, i did this all the time. It was just old news to me. Walk into the apartment, introduce myself, send the message. Was I that rusty? Was it that long of a time before a message was sent? No wonder my place in this city isn’t known.